Trigun: Germination
by Sango Takeushi
Summary: The product of a night of passion sixteen long years ago, a new hybrid Plant has germinated. And now she seeks to know her past, and to find the father she never knew. With only a pair of broken sunglasses and her mother's tales of a tall blond man in a
1. Chapter 1

The two suns were high in the sky, just over halfway along their great arc across the heavens. Their harsh rays beat down upon the figure of a young boy, lying on his stomach on the flat roof of his apartment building. He was leaning his elbows on the ground, just an inch from the edge. In his hands he clutched a small pair of binoculars, holding them firmly to his eyes. He was earning $$3 per hour of watching for the sandsteamer, and he had been there all day. Now, with his sweat-soaked shirt clinging uncomfortably to his back and only a few drops of water left in his canteen, he was considering going back down to his apartment and giving up any more double-dollars he would earn that day. The boy sighed, bringing the binoculars down from his eyes. He let them drop, to hang around his neck by their cracked and weather-beaten Tomas-leather strap. Sitting up, he rocked back on his heels, peering out over the roofs of the town, before standing up to stretch his legs.

Once the blood was again flowing to his lower extremities, the boy threw back his head to gaze up at the cloudless dome of sky above him. The sky was such a stark blue, with a strange clarity to it such as he hadn't witnessed in quite a while. This brought to him feelings that he had not felt in years, and somehow reminded him of a song he had heard, a long time ago. The melody he could recall, but most of the lyrics were lost to him now. He started to sing softly:

"So…on the first evening a pebble, from somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world…" From there, he couldn't remember the words, but he continued to hum the melody to himself. The song soon faded into nothing and the boy lowered his eyes. As he did so, they grew wide, because the sandsteamer the town had been waiting for for so long was suddenly in sight.

A spontaneous grin spread across his face, and then he sprinted to the trapdoor in the middle of the roof, flung it open and disappeared down the ladder. Once he hit the hallway of the top floor, started yelling, "The sandsteamer's here! The sandsteamer, it's coming, it's coming!" all the way down the rough wooden stairway and into the dusty street. He continued to scream about the sandsteamer, running into the bars, taverns, and hotels throughout the town, to tell everybody that the sandsteamer had arrived.

By the time the monolithic steel locomotive actually stopped just outside of the city limits, a crowd had gathered to welcome the visitors to their town, and to welcome back people who had left the all-but-forgotten backwater town of April, and were just now returning. The doors creaked slowly open, and a metal ramp was lowered so that the passengers could disembark without having to jump several feet from the steamer to the ground. Soon, hordes of people were thronging around the sandsteamer, passengers and townsfolk alike. People from the caravan of vehicles, following the sandsteamer across the trackless wastes for the safety it provided, were also pulling into town at the same time. They were also disembarking from their vehicles and heading into town, eager for a hot bath, a real meal, and a warm bed for the night. The sandsteamer would be staying parked in the town for a few days, or until the passenger tickets were sold out, and then head off to the next town or city along its route.


	2. Chapter 2

Far removed from the joyful chaos on the other side of the sandsteamer, Mara slowly descended the rungs of a maintenance ladder welded to the outside of the hull. She was swathed from head to foot in a shapeless gray traveling cloak, the hood pulled up over her head to hide her face. In one hand she carried the strings of a drawstring duffel bag, and was lugging the heavy bag down the ladder with her.

As she reached the last rung, she peered down to try and judge how far it was the ground below, then shrugged and let herself drop. She landed with a thump on the sandy ground, raising a cloud of dust that dirtied the black leather of her thick-soled boots. The mid-calf length boots were her prize possession, with their four-inch heels elevating her to a more imposing height than her original 5'4", and six buckles holding them tight to the bare skin of her calf. With a slight sound of effort, Mara hefted her bag and slung it over her shoulder, before rounding the giant, blunt nose of the locomotive and slipping, unseen, into the crowd.

Carefully, the 16-year old wove her way through the mob of people, avoiding eye contact and trying her hardest not to draw attention to herself. As a stowaway, she would be in a lot of trouble with the sandsteamer company, and with the local authorities, if she was caught. Once free of the thronging press of people, Mara turned onto a deserted side street, and from there found the nearest dark alleyway. When she emerged, the voluminous traveling cloak was stashed away in her bag, and she was wearing dark khaki-colored cargo pants, slung low on her thin hips in a strangely feminine way.

She was also wearing a dark olive-green jacket of a heavy, rough material, tied in a loose double knot just below her ribs. Underneath the jacket she wore a form-fitting dark red leather crop top, the shortness of the top baring her midriff and the plunging square neckline baring almost everything else. Almost immediately, the jacket slid down her bare shoulders to catch at her elbows, but Mara paid it no mind. She ran a hand through her short, sandy blond hair, tousled from the hood of the traveling cloak, before she hefted her bag and set out to find the nearest tavern. Even though she was still too young to drink legally, though she sometimes did anyways, she had found that bartenders were often a town's best and most reliable source of information.

It took a few minutes of wandering around the quiet, dusty town before Mara found the nearest bar, a small establishment, the faded sign proclaiming it as "Frank's Bar & Grille". Stepping up onto the raised boardwalk, she pushed open the classic old-west shutters that served as a door, and stepped inside. The shutters swung shut behind her, whooshing back and forth a few times before swinging to a stop. Faint country music was playing from a dusty jukebox in one corner, barely loud enough to hear. A few rough-looking men sat at the bar, and a pair of old men were playing chess at a corner table. But all eyes were on Mara as she entered the building, mostly because of her rather revealing top, but also because she was new in town, and an attractive young woman. She seemingly took no notice of the eyes upon her, and sat down at the bar two stools down from the nearest man. She dropped her bag to the floor with a loud thump, and then smiled up at the bartender, drying glasses in front of her. With one hand, she pushed her dirty-blond hair out of her face, revealing bright, aquamarine eyes.

"You lost or somethin', miss?" he asked.

"No sir," Mara replied, and then slipped a hand into one of the pockets hidden inside of her jacket. Her fingertips brushed smooth metal and glass, and then she slowly drew out a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses. The glasses looked to be in good condition, except for the fact that one of the small, perfectly round lenses had a crack in it. The frames were made of thin wire, and both earpieces had several zigzags in the wire, making the glasses unique and rather memorable.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone who might have passed through her a while ago. He's a tall, blond-haired man who wears glasses exactly like these." Mara held up the glasses for the bartender to see. "When he passed through, he was probably traveling with another man who looks almost exactly like him. I believe he goes by the name Ericks now."

"Oh, Ericks!" the bartender exclaimed. "Of course I know Ericks! Why didn't you just tell me his name in the first place?"

"Really?! You know him?" Mara burst out, half rising from her seat with excitement.

"Of course I know 'im! Nicest man in the world. Seemed kinda sad, though, although he did one good job of covering it up. He stayed here for a few days with his brother…what with his brother's name again? Something that started with a 'T', I think…Oh, well. He was here a few months ago. Stayed a couple of days then got on the bus going the town of Tuesday. Why he would be wanting to go to a tiny little ramshackle town like Tuesday, I haven't the faintest. But that's his decision, ain't it?" There was a few moments pause as the bartender picked up another glass to dry and Mara sat speechless on her stool, grinning like an idiot.

"If you don't mind me asking, miss, why are you looking for Ericks in the first place?" It took a few moments for Mara to react to his question. "Well, you see…" she started to say, then decided to tell the man the truth and not another variation of it. "He's my father," she said bluntly. "I've been searching two years for the man, following the stories across this entire sun-blasted planet. This is the closest I've ever gotten to him." She paused, smiling down at the sunglasses in her hand. "And to think, it all started with a pair of forgotten sunglasses and my mother's tale of a man in a red coat."

"Ericks' daughter? I wouldn't think he would be old enough to have a daughter your age. How old are you, anyways?"

"I'm 16. Ericks is a bit older than he appears."

"Ah," came her only reply. As the conversation seemed to be over, she changed to subject to something that had been bothering her for quite some time now.

"So…D'ya think I could get somethin' to eat around here?" The bartender nodded slowly, finishing with the glass he was drying and setting it upside-down on a shelf underneath the bar.

"Oh, I bet I could whip you up somethin'," he said finally. "You got money?" Mara smiled uneasily. "Erm, no, not exactly," she said, and then continued quickly before he could cut her off. "But I'd be glad to wash dishes or sweep or something in exchange for it."

"Eh, I can use the work. I'll go make ya something, and then once you've eaten, I'll put you to work in the kitchens. Sound fair to you?"

"Yes, sir!" Mara agreed readily.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour later, Mara was hard at work, with big yellow rubber gloves covering her hands and an oversized apron tied at her waist. She washed the constant flow of dirty dishes in a practiced and methodic way, but didn't seem to be paying much attention to her work. Instead, she was peering out into the restaurant, watching the single waitress struggle with the vast quantity of customers now packed into the small building. She was a good waitress, to be sure, but she couldn't handle the entire restaurant on her own. Mara smiled a little secret smile. When she got off work, she would have a talk with the owner of the little tavern, the bartender with whom she had spoken earlier.

It was pitch black outside when Mara finally washed the last dish. With a sigh, she removed her gloves and apron, stepping back to admire her completed task, piled high on the drying rack in a wetly glistening tower of plastic and metal. The entire building was empty, except for Mara, the owner, and one extremely drunk man, passed out with his head on the bar. Stealthily, Mara slid into a barstool in front of the owner, behind the bar drying glasses like he was when she had first met him.

"This is an awful busy place in the evenings," she said casually. The bartender just nodded, then turned around and grabbed a tinfoil-wrapped plate from a shelf behind him. He slid it across the bar to her. "Here. Your dinner."

"Oooh…I didn't know dinner was part of the deal!" she exclaimed happily as she unwrapped the tinfoil.

"You thought I'd work you all night for only one meal?"

"Don't doubt it. It's happened to me before," she said, before digging into her baked chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. After a few bites, she put down her fork and started talking again. "Y'know, your waitress was having an awful hard time trying to handle with place on her own. Ever thought about hiring another?"

"I had two until a day ago. My other waitress quit without even a warning, leaving just Yvonne and me to run everything. I've been trying to find a waitress, but nobody's responded to my help wanted ad."

"Well," Mara said with a sly smile. "If you're looking for a waitress, I'm going to be in town for a while, or at least until I earn enough to pay for a bus fare, and I'd be glad to take the job." The bartender looked her over a little suspiciously. "You got experience?" he asked brusquely.

"Yes, sir." The man gave her a suspicious, inquiring look.

"I've waitressed my way across Gunsmoke, sir. How do you think I made it this far on my own?" The bartender sighed, and then nodded.

"Alright then. Can you start immediately?"

"As soon as you want me to."

"Then be here at 6:30 AM tomorrow."

"Sure thing…but, um, do you know of anyplace I could stay for the night?" she asked sheepishly. "That might let me pay them back later since I don't have any money right now?"

"You mean to tell me that you've already got yourself a job, but no place to stay?"

"I got off the sandsteamer just this afternoon." The bartender sighed a heavy sigh of exasperation, letting Mara know that he was reluctant about what he was going to say next.

"Oh, all right then. I've got an empty bedroom in my apartment above the restaurant that you can stay in until you can find a place of your own. Oh, and I'll need to get you a uniform. Follow me…" The man led Mara into a small storage closet behind the kitchen where he dumped into her arms a short, puffy black dress and a white apron. "That's your uniform. Wear that when you come down tomorrow morning. It should fit you well enough. By the way, the name's Frank Earle."

"I'm Mara, Mara Reckless."

"Heck of a last name you got there." Mara smiled at his remark. She got that a lot. "Well, it's unique anyways. People don't usually forget '…that Reckless girl.'" They both laughed, and then Mara helped Frank move the unconscious drunk onto the bench just outside the tavern's door and then lock up. Frank showed Mara where her room was, and then disappeared down the unlit hall. "Well, that was a successful day," Mara said quietly to herself before turning in for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Mara showed up downstairs at only a minute before 6:30, looking sheepish and a little uncomfortable in her new uniform. The body of the dress fit her well enough, but the skirt was quite short, just over halfway down her thigh, and puffed up with multiple layers of frilly petticoats until the cloth of the skirt itself was somewhere around 6 inches away from her legs. Since the only shoes she owned were her boots, she had wiped the dust off of them in an attempt to make them look good enough for work. Frank nodded his greeting when she arrived downstairs, and she smiled back.

"Breakfast," he said, making the word sound like more of a grunt than part of the English language.

He gestured to a plate of buttered toast on the bar. Mara took a piece, and began to munch, trying to keep the amount of dropped crumbs to a minimum. After her first piece, Frank started to give her instructions.

"Sweep the floor, then bring the chairs down from the tables. Just sweep the dust out the door, and then sweep the porch as well. Once you're done with that, I'll get you a rag to wash tables with. Mara snatched another piece of toast before nodding with false seriousness to Frank and heading for the broom. The work went quickly, and soon the little tavern, which also, she later found out, served breakfast, lunch, and dinner, was open to customers.

Yvonne, the other waitress working there, showed up two minutes after opening time. "Yes, Frank, I know I'm late," she burst out as she hurried into the building. "I'm so sorry about making you open by yourself but-oh." She stopped dead in her tracks, because Mara stood in front of her, wearing the waitress's uniform and a slight smile. Mara was the first to speak. "Hi," she said. "I'm Mara," stepping forward with her hand out to shake. "I take it you're Yvonne?" It took a moment, but Yvonne smiled and clasped Mara's hand "Yeah…yeah, I am. You're working here now?" she questioned.

"Yup. I thought you could use some help with the dinner crowd," Mara said. Yvonne smiled, but didn't say another word, and instead headed to where Frank stood in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee and began to speak to him quietly. Mara could feel a slight flush coming to her cheeks, because she knew Yvonne and Frank were talking about her. She pretended not to notice, and instead fidgeted with the pen and the pad of paper in the pocket of her apron.

A square of light spilled into the restaurant as the doors swung poen to admit the first customer of the day. It was a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with her toddler son in tow. Mara put on a bright smile. "Welcome!" she said to the woman. "Please be seated, and I'll get you a menu. Would you like a high chair?" The woman smiled. "Yes, please," she replied. Mara brought it to her, along with a menu, and then two glasses of water- one large, with ice, and the other smaller, without ice. Soon, the woman ordered, and Mara brought it up the kitchen, where she handed it to Frank herself.

"I guess won't have to train her," she heard Yvonne say as she headed back out into the restaurant.

Sometime around noon, while the lunch rush was in full swing, the shutter-like doors were kicked open, crashing against the walls on either side of the doorway with a crash. Three men barged in, masks over their faces and shotguns in their hands. For a split second, the entire restaurant went deathly quiet. Not a breath nor word nor scrape of silverware was heard. "All right, everybody down!" one of the masked men shouted hoarsely. And that was when the screaming started. In an instant, the restaurant was plunged into total chaos as the patrons dove to the floor or huddled beneath tables. Only Mara was left standing, in the very center of the restaurant, her arms loaded down with three plates heaped with food. Her eyes were downcast, yet you could see the anger building in her as she fought to keep the ever-swelling tide under control. "I told you to get down!" a masked bandit snarled. "Now do it!" Slowly, Mara looked up at the men, meeting the gaze of each with eyes full of seething anger.

"Get down, you stupid girl!" a second shouted at her. "I don't want to have to kill you, but if you stand there one more second, and I shoot."

Suddenly, her right arm became a blur. Then three shots rang out, but not from the bandits standing framed in the sunlight streaming in the door, but from the .45 automatic handgun that Mara had drawn from where she had it holstered on her hip, concealed under her waitress' uniform. The plate she had been carrying in that hand she was balancing on her head, and the other two remained where they were. The three shotguns clattered to the ground. "My god, she could have killed us!" one of the masked men exclaimed in horror. "Yes, I could have," Mara replied coolly.

"But do you have any idea how hard bloodstains are to get out of a wooden floor?"

"You are going to pay for this!" the leader roared, lunging for his gun. But before he could reach it, it skittered away across the floor, propelled by a fourth bullet from Mara's gun.

"And to think, my first day on the job and I have to deal with armed robbers. Feh… You two, down on the floor, and don't even think about reaching for your guns." The two complied, casting frightened looks up at her as they hurried to follow her orders. "Somebody go get the sheriff." Mara called out. "And be quick about it."

The three would-be robbers were still facedown on the floor when the sheriff and a small posse of armed men arrived.

The people in the restaurant had tied their hands together behind their backs with their own bandannas. The sheriff's men quickly "escorted" them out of the building, but the sheriff stayed behind to thank Mara.

"Oh, there's no need to thank me. I just didn't want the food I was carrying to get cold," she said with a laugh.

A waitress to the last, she had delivered the plates she had been carrying to the customers who had ordered them as soon as the robbers had dealt with.

"Well, you sure did a good job of it. One teenager carrying three plates up against three armed men? I didn't believe it at first, but I guess you proved me wrong. How'd you learn to shoot a gun like that, miss?"  
"I'm self-taught," she replied. "But I guess you could say it runs in the family, as well." The sheriff laughed at that, not sure what to think. "Well, I hope you stay here for a while. This town could use someone like you."

When all the commotion had finally died down and Mara, Frank, and Yvonne were left alone in the restaurant, the two immediately turned on her, pelting her with a barrage of questions, thank-you's, and exclamations over her actions that afternoon. They were still a little shocked that the new part-timer could have pulled off a dangerous stunt like that. But Mara seemed to think it was no big deal.


End file.
